


No Good

by Lafayesss



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: M/M, Minor Mention Of Character Death, Oops, bc i talk too much, bc there needs to be more HamLaf, btw I write long notes, but also some implied sex so that's always great right?, canonverse, hamlaf, some sadness...if i did the angst right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 12:10:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5539493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafayesss/pseuds/Lafayesss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hamilton, this is not allowed.” Lafayette felt his breath hitch at the last word, his hands finding grip in Hamilton’s hair despite his previous protest. The tent was empty save for them, but a soldier could walk in at any moment, and Lafayette tried his best to care enough to push his dear friend off of him. </p><p>-Light angst, if that's possible. In which Hamilton is drunk and cold and Lafayette is warm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Good

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first posted Hamilton fic, my first story on AO3, and the first less-than-saintly piece of writing I've ever done (most of my smut is mentally written thank you very much). I don't /think/ it's too bad, but then again, I've been up to my ears in reading some of the Hamfics here and there are some reaaaaally dirty ones. Maybe my judgement is fucked. Read and lmk, yeah?  
>   
> Any warnings...there's a brief and non-graphic mention of a character death. Most of the less saintly stuff is implied, nothing too graphic (I think?) Perhaps the most atrocious thing in this will be my Google Translate level French, or my characterization, or my light angst (if that's even a thing).  
>   
> I didn't describe the characters very specifically, so you can imagine the real deal or the Broadway actors or whatever your heart desires. I personally imagine Lafayette blond and stuff, but that's another tale I shouldn't be telling right now. (If y'all want a reference picture, tell me in the comments!)  
>   
> Also, I can't history. I'm 99% sure there's an inaccuracy with the timeline and character death and the fact that Hamilton and Lafayette are together and the war is still going on. Forgive me, mon ami. Forgive me and enjoy~

“Hamilton, this is not _allowed.”_ Lafayette felt his breath hitch at the last word, his hands finding grip in Hamilton’s hair despite his previous protest. The tent was empty save for them, but a soldier could walk in at any moment, and Lafayette tried his best to care enough to push his dear friend off of him. “This is not—ah, _Alexander_ ,” he hissed as he felt teeth sink into the skin above his collarbone. His breath came short and shallow, heat rising to his cheeks and ears despite the snow and blustery cold outside. He could feel Hamilton’s smile as he pressed kisses along Lafayette’s jawline.

“I quite like the sound of my name on your lips,” Hamilton breathed, tugging at the other man’s clothes, his hands where they shouldn’t be. He tightened his straddle over Lafayette’s body, and Lafayette could feel Hamilton’s mouth against his throat, forming the words between kisses. “Say it again.”

“You are intoxicated,” Lafayette said instead. The sickening sweet smell of rum filled his senses, dizzying him as if he were the one drunk. This time, he did push Hamilton away.

“Lafayette—” Hamilton began, but the younger soldier shook his head.

“You are not well, _mon cheri._ ” It was no question, and despite regaining the teasing purr of his tone after losing it to breathlessness, Lafayette was serious. Willing his fluttering heartbeat to slow as he sat up and fixed his clothes, he reminded Hamilton, as well as himself, “You are thinking of Laurens.”

Hamilton looked away at that, hands curling into fists involuntarily. He pushed himself up in the small cot, and Lafayette watched a million emotions flicker across the poor man’s face. The expression he settled for was somewhere between guilt and grief. “Ah. You’re right,” he faltered, his voice low as if only now caring if anyone heard them. “I—God, Lafayette—I’m sorry. This was not a good idea. I’m…” Hamilton cleared his throat. He didn’t know what he was. He was disgusted by himself. In pain from Laurens’s death. Worried about what Lafayette thought of him now. He was not eager to voice any of those thoughts. The Frenchman only watched him, something unreadable in his expression.

Carefully, deliberately, as if one wrong word would lose the war, Lafayette asked, “Would you like to talk about it? Laurens…he was my friend, too.” His voice turned soft with his last words, and although part of him still buzzed from the sensation of Hamilton’s lips on his skin, he knew the pressure in his chest well. He knew how to hold it off long enough to forget it.

“I…I’m not sure. I don’t know.” Hamilton shut his eyes, fearing, even in the swiftly falling darkness, that Lafayette would see his heart. The younger man had always been quick, sharp with reading people. Especially Hamilton. He contemplated letting it all out. His demons. Lafayette knew and loved him well. Lafayette would understand, would never judge him. But when he opened his eyes, the words on his tongue, he suddenly recognized the look on the other man’s face. Beneath the redness just starting to dissipate from his cheeks, the small curve of a sad, comforting smile on his lips, there was something else. It had been in his gaze for so long, Hamilton had not realized it to be out of the ordinary, to mean something. It was a look Hamilton himself often used to wear around Laurens, before the first night they spent together. Longing.

In that moment, Lafayette knew Hamilton had read him. He had been seen through, after all this time. Instantaneously. As if the darkness closing in had betrayed him, offered insight the sun could have never dreamed of. His lungs pushed painfully against his chest and his thudding pulse sped up against his skin, amplified with adrenaline, but he allowed no difference in his expression. Not even a fraction of change. He kept on his expectant, reassuring smile. He made no move backwards, away from Hamilton, despite suddenly feeling the need to go far, far away from this man. This was no good. But he let nothing show. “Hamilton?” he whispered, feigning ignorance. If he admitted what Hamilton knew, it would be over. Lafayette wasn’t sure how many times he could push the other man away. “Are you all right?”

Hamilton managed a short nod, his mind still racing. “I’m…okay. Cold. Just cold,” he responded. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

“ _Mon ami_ , we can bring your blanket here,” Lafayette offered. They were on his cot, after all, with only one blanket for the two of them. “You may sleep with me tonight, for the warmth, but—” His breath was stopped by Hamilton’s mouth on his, eager, insistent. There was no hurry, no hands roaming his body like before. The smell of rum was only faint on Hamilton’s tongue now, faint enough for Lafayette to imagine it was just how he tasted. Their bodies were still as their lips moved. Neither pulled away, despite the increasing need for air.

Gradually, Lafayette let himself be pushed against his cot once again, feeling slow hands unbuttoning his shirt, tugging off his clothes. When they finally broke the kiss, their faces were so close, Lafayette could not tell where his exhale ended and Hamilton’s inhale began. And then they kissed again. Again. The pace rose, hands moving now. Their hot breaths mingled, and Lafayette felt the other man’s lips leave his, trailing fire down his jaw, his throat. With his lips freed and his head slowly clearing of the initial surprise and lust, Lafayette whispered breathlessly, “This is no good, Alexander.” He stiffened at the touch of Hamilton’s cold hands on his bare torso, his back. “This is no good,” he repeated, voice rising in pitch. Hamilton’s hands didn’t stop, and as they found their way down, Lafayette moaned, “ _Alexander_ —”

Hamilton caught the rest of his words with his mouth, breaking away only to say, “They’ll hear us,” before deepening the kiss. He was not drunk now. He knew exactly what he was doing as he pinned Lafayette’s body beneath his, one hand traveling up to tangle itself in the younger man’s hair, the other staying down. For a long time, as lips brushed and exposed skin touched, neither could form coherent words.

When Lafayette finally found his voice again, his body hot, his breath shallow, he stopped Hamilton’s hands. “Please,” he breathed, the desperation in his tone making the other man stop. “Alexander, please.” He said no more, but the plea was in his eyes. They were slightly out of focus as they fixed themselves on Hamilton’s. _Please do not make me fall in love any further,_ they begged.

Hamilton paused. “I can love you,” he insisted.

Breathless. The way Hamilton looked, cheeks red, eyes clear as ever. And his _words_. Lafayette felt the pressure in his chest build. He was breathless. With a small smile, he murmured, “Of course you can, love. _Bien sûr._   _Tu peux faire n'importe quoi…_ ” He let the quiet burn for a moment before forcing the words from his lips. “But you do not.”

“I _do_.”

Lafayette did not believe his words. He doubted if Hamilton even believed his own words. They were two short syllables in the dark, with no witnesses but themselves. But he gave himself into the next kiss, and the next, savoring the feeling of those cold hands on his heated skin. He did not stop the hands again. He could not bear. _Alexander is cold, Laurens,_ he thought to himself between the kisses, the touches, the moans. _I apologize, mon ami. He is cold, and nothing can bring back the warmth in him like you could. But I can try._

 

When they finished, both flushed red and drowsy from tasting each other’s skin, inhaling each other’s scent, Lafayette was cold. But the bare torso pressed against his back and the hands still wrapped around him, they were warm. And that was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, Laf ):  
>   
> Keep an eye out for more HamLaf from me. Winter break is pretty much the only time I have for fanfic writing, so I'm hoping to get at least one more short piece and maybe a multi-chaptered broken promise for you lovely folks. Because you're not a fanfic writer until you've promised a chapter and completely lied (jk I'm just horrible).  
>   
> But yes, the curse of loving the less popular pairing is that I either have to read other fics through tears and project Lafayette into the story or write the damn thing myself. Trying to do the latter c: Btw:  
>   
> "Bien sûr. Tu peux faire n'importe quoi…" = "Of course. You can do anything..."  
>   
> Comments are always welcome! Give me prompts! Critque! Love (or hate)!


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